Noctes et Dies
by JennMel
Summary: Schitzophrenia: a severe mental illness characterized by persistent defects in the perception or expression of reality. A cold, hard definition that explains nothing about what Malcolm is about to go through, nor how his friends are meant to cope.
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: Hi! This is my new story, which I hope you'll like. This story is TR friendship, and is set somewhere in season four.

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise, or anything related. This story was inspired by River from Firefly, which I also don't own.

Noctes et Dies

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Reed's eyes surveyed the ruins, taking in every detail. It had been twenty four hours since T'Pol had detected the world on which they now stood. The planet was interesting for everyone on the away team. As usual, Captain Archer was wandering around, enjoying the experience of being on a new world. Ensign Hoshi Sato was absorbed in the various symbols and glyphs that had been delicately carved into the rough wall; yet another language for her to attack. Commander Tucker was setting up some equipment in a corner, designed to analyse the curious power signature that had been detected - his equipment co-ordinated with the scans that T'Pol was making back on the Enterprise. Malcolm, meanwhile, was just intrigued as to how long it would take for T'Pol to be forced to retract her earlier statement of the planet being uninhabited. Enterprise's luck had been too good lately, and the strange ruins did nothing to settle Malcolm's nerves.

"What do you think Hoshi?" Archer smiled as he watched his linguistics officer almost glow with excitement.

"This dialect is very complex, sir, with almost no point of reference." Malcolm smirked. From any other person, that statement would have come out in a tone of defeat – Hoshi was relishing the challenge.

"Malcolm?" Reed switched his focus over to Trip, "Help me with this would ya?"

Reluctantly, Malcolm tore himself away from his vantage point. He aided the Commander in silence, furtively sneaking glances to the entrance. It wasn't too long before Trip had had enough, "Fer cryin' out loud Mal! Stop being so paranoid! There's a reason why they call it 'uninhabited'!"

Malcolm offered a half smile, "When have you known me _not _to be paranoid, Commander?"

"Well, there was that time on Risa…"

Malcolm shot his friend a glare that could have frozen a volcano.

* * *

The four humans had been on the planet for coming up to six hours, and would soon be returning with their preliminary data to the Enterprise. If the data proved interesting, then it was likely that the Starfleet ship would be in orbit of the planet for a couple of days at the least. Malcolm had been on edge the whole time, and was secretly hoping that the data would prove incredibly dull so that they would never return. There was something about the ruins that just didn't _sit right_, as Trip would say.

"Alright people!" Archer finally called out, "Let's get back to the shuttle."

Malcolm lingered so that he would be at the back of the group. He had just grabbed a bag stuffed with Hoshi's recording equipment, when he froze. If he hadn't been on edge, he doubted he would have noticed it – a very high pitched, constant whistling. Frowning, he turned, and was shocked to see the whole back wall - _glowing_. Before his mind could fully register this fact, however, he found himself flying backwards through the air, before his body impacted with the opposite wall, shortly followed by his head.

* * *

Trip heard Malcolm's yell, turning only in time to see his friend slam into the ruins at a very high velocity, then slump to the floor, unmoving. "Malcolm!" Trip yelled in panic, running back to where he lay, and skidding down next to him. Without looking, he could sense Hoshi and the Captain right behind him. "Malcolm?" Trip called again, trying to rouse the armoury officer. He reached out and lifted Malcolm's head from its odd angle against the rock, disturbed by the amount of blood that he felt through the thick dark hair.

Hoshi contacted Enterprise, instructing them to prepare a medical team, while Archer looked warily around for attackers. All three breathed with relief when Malcolm began slowly stirring, and soon a pair of crystalline blue eyes were blinking up at them, confused and unfocused, "Ow." Malcolm murmured under his breath as he attempted to move.

Archer crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Stay still Lieutenant. We're going to transport you off." Malcolm groaned in protest. Archer continued, "What happened?"

"A big moving wall of air, sir." Again, he attempted to move, only to be pushed down by Trip.

Both Archer and Trip smiled shakily at the dry comment. Hoshi stepped forward, "Captain? Doctor Phlox sent orders that Malcolm has to be taken by shuttle. Apparently, the transporter could be risky for someone with a severe head injury."

Malcolm smiled weakly – at least there was one good thing out of the incident; he really didn't feel up to being chopped down to his particles.

* * *

"Lieutenant…" Doctor Phlox warned his charge in an amicable tone as Malcolm tried yet again to convince them he was fine.

"Doctor, I have a small headache," Okay, a slight understatement, but he really hated sickbay, "Why can't I just go back to my quarters?"

"You heard the Doc, Malcolm, concussions are bad, and you must have a big one, however thick your skull is." Trip smiled.

"I only wish to keep you in for observation overnight. I would prefer to be around to wake you up if needs be." Phlox assured him.

"Lieutenant, I will see you tomorrow, if the Doctor releases you. We'll be going over the information of the planet, and I would like to hear what happened in full detail." The Captain smiled warmly, "Goodnight Malcolm."

Malcolm glared at the retreating back of his captain. Now he would never get out of here tonight.

* * *

Malcolm's heart pounded in his ears, and his breathing came ragged. Colours, flashing images, all swirled around him. Glimpses of faces he had known, and then forgotten. Red eyes, black earth. Alien races darted and flickered. And, god, the sound - voices, so many voices, screaming, yelling, whispering. Falsehoods and reality glided hand in hand as lies were spoken and truths were thought. There was a cry, a single voice and-

Malcolm's eyes flew open, his hand shot out to grab the wrist of the attacker. A sharp cry of pain brought everything into focus. He was back in the darkened sickbay, attempting to break his doctor's wrist. Hurriedly letting go, Malcolm sat up, "I'm so sorry, Doctor, I-" He didn't get any further, as a wave of nausea overcame his senses and he doubled over, hitting the floor on his hands and knees, vomiting what little he had left in his stomach from the breakfast hours before.

Phlox stayed with him, not seeing the point in fetching a bowl now. When Malcolm's retching subsided, he fell back, exhausted. Phlox injected a hypospray, "I had to wake you. You were having quite a violent nightmare. And don't worry; vomiting is to be expected from a head injury such as yours." He smiled, "Let's get you back up Lieutenant. I have given you a sedative that should ensure a dreamless sleep." Sure enough, Malcolm's body was already closing down.

As the Doctor left to tend to his animals, Malcolm's last thought remained with the horrible image he had been left with just before he had awoken. A man, lying motionless on the floor, with blurred images floating in and out of shadows. His throat was slit clean, and blood slid silently along the flooring. Drip, screaming, drip, blood, drip, black…

Malcolm's eyes slid shut.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: So, what do you think? I hope you like this story enough to stick with me! Any reviews or comments are greatly appreciated:)


	2. Chapter 2

Author Notes: Thanks for the feedback!

Chapter 2

"Doctor, I feel perfectly fine." Malcolm was sat once again on the biobed, trying to out stare Phlox.

The Denobulan made a noncommittal noise, and then sighed, "Very well, I am releasing you for light duties _only_. I still expect you to take it easy, and I want you to come back to me tonight for a final check-up." Malcolm rolled his eyes, but he would take whatever he could get. He just needed to get out of this place. It felt like it was suffocating him.

Malcolm reached his quarters and gave a sigh of relief when the door slid shut. He stood there in the darkness for a while, trying to calm his nerves. The dream, or rather nightmare, from last night was still fresh in his mind. He couldn't ever remember experiencing anything as vivid as that before, even when he was a child. In general, he rarely remembered his dreams, and when he did, they were usually less graphic than the nightmare had been. Shaking his head slightly, he turned on the lights and went to the washbasin to splash cold water on his face. The meeting was in fifteen minutes. Malcolm hurriedly changed, and made to leave. Just as he made to open the door, a shadow flitted in the corner of his eye. Whirling around, Malcolm found that nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a residue from the nightmare, he left.

The route to the meeting was uneventful, and by the time he got there, Malcolm had pushed the nightmare to the back of his mind. Archer looked up as he entered, and smiled, "Ah, Lieutenant, glad to see you up and about. Now we're all here, let's get this over with."

The meeting progressed, going from T'Pol and Trip's samples, which hadn't been anything particularly groundbreaking, to Hoshi's carvings, "-and I can't find any reference to any kind of defensive mechanism, but then I suppose that would defeat the point. It does vaguely mention a war, or maybe an invasion, but it's hard to make out."

Their Captain smiled, "Thank you Hoshi. Well, I'm reluctant to send any more teams down to the planet considering what happened to Malcolm."

Trip nodded, "It must have been a defence that you triggered somehow. The planet's really no big loss if we don't stay."

T'Pol nodded, "I agree."

"Alright then. Travis, please break orbit. We'll be resuming our course within the hour. Dismissed everyone."

The meeting had lasted all morning, so Trip suggested that Malcolm join him for lunch before their shift started. As they made their way to the mess hall, T'Pol caught up with them, "Lieutenant Reed? May I speak with you a moment?"

Trip shrugged, "I'll meet you there."

Malcolm turned to face his superior, "Can I help you Commander?"

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Malcolm was thrown, "I'm sorry?"

"You were staring at me for most of that meeting."

Malcolm frowned, he had? "I'm sorry Commander; I must have not been paying attention. I assure you, I have no problem."

T'Pol accepted the apology and left, leaving Malcolm standing in the corridor. What the hell? He couldn't remember even looking at the Vulcan during the meeting. He stood there a moment more, and then remembered he was meeting Trip.

* * *

Their meal passed in silence. Malcolm knew it was Trip's way of subtly assessing whether he was okay; it happened every time either one of them got injured now. Malcolm suddenly frowned, "Do you like Commander T'Pol?"

Trip's head jerked up, "Malcolm…I, what? No! Keep your voice down!"

Malcolm shrugged, and stared down at his half eaten meal. Absently, he traced the fork through the food. After a few moments, he spoke again, "I don't."

Trip frowned, "Well, I'd hope you don't. Regulations, remember?"

Malcolm didn't look up, "No, I just don't like her – she's mean." Now Trip was worried. Malcolm's language made him sound more like a child, "She's scary. She's scared all her emotions away and now they're hiding. They don't like her either."

"Malcolm, _what_?"

Malcolm looked up, "What?" His tone had returned to normal.

"Okay, I think we need to get you to Phlox."

Malcolm gave his friend a confused look, "I feel fine Trip."

"Yeah? Well what was that about T'Pol?"

Malcolm shrugged, "I was just saying…" He frowned, and then met Trip's eyes, "It seemed normal a second ago."

Trip stood, "Come on, I'm taking you to sickbay."

Malcolm shook his head, unmoving, "It was nothing. I'm fine."

Trip didn't want to admit it, but he was genuinely scared. He decided to pull rank, "Lieutenant, I am _ordering_ you to sickbay."

Malcolm rose, and glared at him, "Respectfully, _no_."

Trip lost his patience, and grabbed his friend's wrist, "Look Malcolm-"

Malcolm's eyes turned feral as he wrenched out of Trip's hand, "No!" Everyone in the mess hall turned to look at them.

Malcolm made to run past Trip, but was seized around his stomach as Trip tried to restrain him. If Malcolm had been thinking straight, he would have been able to toss Trip over with ease, and still run, but as soon as Trip had caught him, his mind fled back to the nightmare, and all the screams and blood. He began to struggle violently, kicking and screaming.

Trip strengthened his hold as he yelled for help. Malcolm was breathing far too hard; he was going to have a panic attack, if he wasn't already. A MACO ran over to help, while someone else contacted sickbay on Trip's orders. Suddenly, Malcolm's knees buckled, and he slid to the floor with the two men still holding him. He had blacked out.

* * *

Malcolm's eyes snapped open. He was back in sickbay. The last thing he remembered was being in the mess hall with Trip. The conversation had somehow turned to T'Pol, but after that, he remembered nothing. He suddenly realised that he was lying in a different part of sickbay, closed off from the normal area, and door, with a curtain. Frowning, he concentrated on the murmur of voices nearby. Quietly, he slid off the biobed, and tilted his head. The voices, from what he could tell, were Phlox, Archer and Trip – all discussing him.

"-apart from his comments on T'Pol, did he say anything else?" Phlox.

"Not really," That was Trip, "He seemed to think what he had just said had seemed normal at the time, but then he looked like he realised it had been odd."

"What's wrong with him, Phlox?" Archer that time.

The Doctor answered, "From the tests that I ran on the Lieutenant, I believe I can give you a prognosis."

"Get on with it Doc!" Trip's voice had elevated to a higher volume.

A sigh, "Lieutenant Reed's dopamine levels have increased in the left side of his brain. This is a sign of schizophrenia. However, I am reluctant to say this considering all that we have encountered over the years. Unfortunately, we cannot exclude any possibility, and considering what you have told me-"

"Oh come on Doc!" Trip sounded more agitated now, "One bump on the head and you're calling him crazy?"

"It is possible that the Lieutenant's brain trauma could have had a hand in this, yes; escalating a problem. Combined with the increasing stress that this crew, especially the senior staff, have been under recently, and Lieutenant Reed's natural paranoia that comes with his job description, I'm afraid that-"

Malcolm stopped listening. He sank back on the bed. No. There was no way he was going crazy. He felt fine. Unwillingly, he thought back to the nightmares, but then he shook his head. He couldn't be going crazy. Malcolm shivered. So why had Phlox sounded so worried?

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: What do you think?


	3. Chapter 3

Author Notes: Thanks for all the support!

Chapter 3

Malcolm shot up, gasping for air. The nightmares still hadn't stopped, and were beginning to leak into his conscious mind when he was awake. He was shaking violently. That nightmare had been worse than any of the others. Startled, he realised that he was crying, and he viciously wiped away the tears. Two days ago, Phlox had been forced to move him to an isolation room after a particularly violent episode in which Malcolm had completely lost control, trashing sickbay. The Doctor seemed to think that Malcolm might be a danger to himself.

Malcolm drew his knees up to his chest, and curled up in the corner. Four days. It had been four days since the nightmares, since this hell had started. His friends came to visit him when they could, but many didn't like to see him the way he was. Trip came to see him the most, but to be honest, Malcolm dreaded the visits more and more. One of the things he hated most in his life was lack of control, and now he had that constantly. What worried him the most was the possibility of the violence returning when someone was alone with him. What if he seriously hurt one of them?

Malcolm clenched his fists. He knew that sooner or later, the crew of the Enterprise were going to have to accept that yes, he was going nuts, to put it bluntly. Hell, even he couldn't find a rational explanation for his behaviour. In fact, at the time, his behaviour always seemed so normal. Malcolm snorted. There, he had to be going crazy. Only crazy people thought of their behaviour as _normal_.

* * *

Archer and Phlox were waiting for Trip. Neither wanted to have this conversation, but they both knew it was inevitable. As Trip entered, he knew something was wrong, "What's going on?"

"Please sit down Mr Tucker." Phlox gestured to the biobed.

Now Trip was really suspicious. He stayed standing, "Get to the point."

Phlox sighed, but continued, "I have spoken with Starfleet and my colleagues on Earth about Lieutenant Reed's condition. It has been decided that, in our medical opinion, Malcolm should be returned to Earth so that he can receive the help that he needs."

Trip stared at both of them in shock, "You want to have him _committed_? Most of the time he's fine! Like you said, the stress-"

"No Commander." Phlox said gently, "It is the medications that I have been giving Mr Reed that have been keeping him as lucid and as docile as he currently is. Unfortunately, all tests indicate that his condition is deteriorating rapidly, and we simply don't have the facilities aboard to cope."

Trip didn't reply, he only glared at them. Archer sighed, "You know this is for the best, Trip. We've all seen him. He can't stay here. He needs proper care."

Trip looked at the ground furiously, "Have you told him yet?"

"No." Archer said softly, "As his closest friend on this ship, we thought you'd like to tell him."

Unable to speak, Trip nodded, and then left in the direction of the isolation rooms. Using his access code, Trip tentatively walked into Malcolm's room, only to see him curled up in the corner, unmoving. Hoping that Malcolm would be himself, Trip spoke up, "Malcolm?"

At first, it appeared that he had gone unheard, but then Malcolm looked up, "Trip?"

"Yeah. How're you doing?" He sat down on the opposite bed.

Malcolm frowned, "Why're you sad?"

Damn. Well, at least this was the child-like Malcolm, not the violent one. As simply as he could, he tried to explain, "Because the Doc just told me some bad news."

Malcolm immediately shifted his position from sitting to crouched. He looked scared, as if he was ready to bolt, "You're going away."

Trip frowned. Where had that come from? "No, Mal, I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

"Liar!" Malcolm leapt off the bed and stood in a corner diagonal from Trip, wrapping his arms around himself, "Everyone goes away. They always lie. They pretend. They hide behind masks, say they're nice. Then they show their faces and make everyone scream!"

"I'm not lying Malcolm." Trip tried to keep his voice level, "It's kinda complicated. Please sit down."

"Complicated? Life was simple until people came along. They made it bad and now everyone is screaming." He slid to the floor, covering his ears as tears formed in his eyes, "Why won't they stop screaming? Why is there so much blood? Keep laughing in the night. Laugh as they scream…"

Malcolm curled up into a ball, rocking. It tore Trip up, seeing his friend like this, but he couldn't just leave. Sitting down next to Malcolm, he put his arms around him as he would a child. It wasn't fair. Why did things like this always happen to the people who don't deserve it? After a while, Malcolm calmed down, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. You were right."

Malcolm sat up and regarded his friend. His eyes were now completely clear, "About what?"

"About me going away. The Cap'n has decided, on Phlox's advice, that we need to return to Earth - that you need to return to Earth."

Malcolm frowned, and then the reality hit him. He stood up, and backed away, "No."

"Malcolm…" Trip rose to keep eye level.

"No! No more tests! No more needles! All you do is poke and prod and you get no questions! You're blind in the dark and you do things backwards. And you say _I'm_ the crazy one?" Malcolm suddenly lurched forwards and slammed Trip in to the wall. Footsteps and shouts could be heard in the hall. Trip was having trouble breathing as Malcolm put pressure on his chest, but he didn't want to hurt his friend. "The stars blink out, one by one. The long night closes in and everyone sleeps the last sleep. Tiny souls, tiny lives, all lost in a big riddle for the sun."

Trip stared in misery over the random words. He watched in despair as Malcolm was pulled off him and a hypospray was injected into his neck, making him go limp. Phlox regarded him, "Are you alright Commander?"

Trip rubbed his chest, "Yeah. Is he?"

Phlox shook his head, "I think it would be prudent to keep Malcolm under sedation until we reach Earth."

"What? That's two weeks from now! Is that even safe?"

"I assure you, Commander, it is. Besides, would you prefer that he were awake and able to do himself damage?"

"I guess not…" Trip muttered.

"Very well then; Commander, if you would-"

"What, oh, sure." Trip gave his friend one last glance, before he left to start his shift.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Next chapter should be up soon. Please review and tell me what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

Author Notes: Thanks for the feedback! It really keeps me writing! I love reading your theories too:)

Chapter 4

"_Attention all crew. We are under attack and have been boarded, multiple decks. Respond with force._"

Trip froze as he heard the call. Everyone in Engineering looked towards him. Shaking himself out of his trance, he yelled, "What are you waiting for? Get to the weapons locker!"

Ever since the Expanse, weapons had been available on all decks at key stations, and once again, Trip was very thankful for that fact. However, before he could even move, a Klingon transported directly in front of him and grabbed him by the neck, holding a gun to his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Ferengi do the same to another one of his men. Two completely different races. That meant pirates. "No one move or reach for a gun, or we blow these guys' heads off!" The Klingon roared in his ear, making him wince.

No one in Engineering wanted to be responsible for their commanding officer and colleague's deaths, and so they complied. Trip had a horrible feeling that their attackers had this whole thing down to a fine art, and that this exact scene was playing out all over the ship. The Ferengi smiled that horrible toothy smile, and yelled, "Which one of you's in charge round here?"

Trip shifted in the Klingon's grip, "I am."

The Klingon nodded to an insectoid Xindi, which then began to take charge of tying up the remainder of the Engineering crew. Trip felt a sharp blow to his chest as a stunner discharged, and slumped forwards in darkness.

* * *

"Urgh." Trip's head was throbbing. 

"Lie still Trip."

"Cap'n? Wha's goin' on?"

Trip opened his eyes, only to hurriedly shut them again against the light. The Captain sighed, "We were attacked by pirates of some sort - they seem to be a collaboration of races. They want the ship, or at least the components. They came out of nowhere and transported aboard. We hardly stood a chance."

Trip gradually opened his eyes again to regard his friend, "We're barely a week from Earth. How can they have got this close?"

Archer shrugged, "They have a cloak."

Trip sat up and looked around. They were in their own brig. Talk about ironic. "Not good then?"

"No, Trip, really not good."

The door swished open, catching their attention, and T'Pol was thrown in to the adjoining cell, having been filling in for Malcolm's position in the armoury. The Klingon gave the three of them a leering smile, and then turned to an Andorian, "I want their computers hacked. Within two hours, you'd better have all the senior staff in this brig." The Klingon sneered, "They'll be getting lonely in there."

The doors closed as the two pirates left. Trip sighed, "I guess that screws with any rescue attempts." He glanced at his captain, who had gone pale, "What's wrong?"

Archer swallowed, "Malcolm is still listed as senior staff. He isn't officially off this ship until we reach Earth, and since anyone who's been available have been covering his shifts, no one's been named as his replacement."

Trip's stomach gave a lurch, "They're gonna bring him down here? If he starts talking to them-"

T'Pol frowned, "I thought Doctor Phlox had the Lieutenant under sedation?"

Trip nodded, "Yeah, but he's drugged every two hours so it's not such a shock when he wakes up. He could easily come around when he's down here." Trip thudded his head back on the wall, "Crap."

They didn't have to wait long. Within the next hour, Travis, Phlox and Hoshi had joined them, the latter going in Trip and Jon's cell, while the other two joined T'Pol. Soon, the outer brig door opened again, and in came the bug-like Xindi, dragging an unconscious Malcolm and throwing him on the floor next to Archer before departing.

Trip and Hoshi scrambled over to their unconscious friend, while the other three watched through the mesh, "Captain?" Phlox prompted Jon for an update on Malcolm's condition.

Hoshi frowned, "He's so thin and pale."

Trip had to agree with her, "He eats less now." The man's dark hair didn't help as it stood out against his tired face. The clothes he was wearing, creamy white scrubs, were darker than his skin – and that was saying something. It also didn't help that the scrubs were baggy, making Malcolm appear even thinner. None of this was a shock to Trip, who still stoutly visited his friend, even if he was unconscious, but Hoshi hadn't seen him in over a week. "When will he wake up, Doc?"

Phlox's face showed none of its normal happiness, "He was due his dose just as I was caught. He should be coming around very shortly."

Sure enough, Malcolm began to stir. Trip rested a hand on Hoshi's shoulder, pulling her back slightly, just in case Malcolm lashed out unexpectedly. Praying that Malcolm would awake in one of his increasingly rarer lucid states, Trip reached forwards, "Malcolm? It's Trip. Can you hear me?"

Malcolm's eyes snapped open, and he sat up sharply, a frown creasing his features. He glared over Trip's shoulder at Phlox, "Bloody doctors. Never know when to stop. Poke you with a needle. See how you like it."

Okay, so not fully lucid, but at least he seemed to have some coherence, "Do you know where we are?" Malcolm looked at Trip with an incredibly convincing condescending expression on his face, "Right, sorry."

Malcolm looked between his cellmates, and then at the door, "We're back to front."

Archer frowned, confused, but Trip by now had gotten used to Malcolm's way of talking, "Yeah, I know. Someone locked us in here."

Malcolm began to shake, and covered his ears, "People are stepping where they shouldn't. They don't belong and they know it."

"Hey…" Trip shifted his position so that he was right next to Malcolm, allowing his friend to lean on him, "It's okay, we'll get out of this. You don't need to worry."

Malcolm suddenly stopped shaking and looked up, smiling at Trip, "Neither do you."

Trip looked over at the others. All of them looked worried, and he could tell that they were thinking the same thing he was. If the pirates found out about Malcolm's state of mind, they could easily use him to get the crew to co-operate.

* * *

They had been in the brig for at least five hours, but considering none of them had a watch, it was hard to be exact. Malcolm had been amazingly quiet, only exhibiting small signs that he was unhappy every now and again. Suddenly, the door slid open, and three Klingons entered, "Which one of you is the Engineer? Your crew's act of playing dumb is starting to wear me thin." It was true; the lead Klingon had a horrible glint in his eye. 

Trip looked at Archer, who subtly shook his head, indicating silence. Malcolm, however, seemed to have other ideas. His eyes had snapped open upon the Klingon's entry, and as they opened the cell doors, he screamed and pressed himself against Trip, "No! Blood on their hands! Blood in their eyes! They laughed, kept laughing, wouldn't stop. Screaming. Everyone is screaming…" Malcolm screwed his eyes up and clamped his hands back over his ears, rocking.

The Klingon strode forwards, and glared down at Trip, "Shut him up," He unholstered his gun, "Or I'll do it for you."

Trip stared fiercely up at the Klingon, "It's not his fault! You shouldn't have brought him down here!"

The Klingon's eyes narrowed, "You're the one I got down in Engineering. Bring him." The Klingon made to go, but then turned, "And bring the crazy. He should help in the Captain's interrogation."

"No!" Archer lurched forwards, trying to grab Malcolm before the Klingons, but only succeeded in getting kicked in the jaw for his troubles. The door slid behind them.

Trip and Malcolm were forcibly dragged down the corridor to the turbo lift. Malcolm hadn't said a word, but kept glaring at the hand that had his arm in a vice-like grip. They reached the lift, and the lead Klingon pressed the button for Engineering, where their captain was waiting. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Malcolm wrenched his arm out of his captor's grip, muttering, "Blood on his hands. Tried to wash them but it won't come off."

The lead Klingon delivered a sharp blow to the side of Malcolm's head, "Shut it!"

Malcolm merely glared back, "Bloody name, bloody nature, bloody Klingons." He giggled.

The doors slid open, preventing retaliation from any of the Klingons as they moved forwards. Trip was really getting panicky now. Malcolm was in no state for any kind of interrogation right now. As they moved down the corridor, Malcolm looked over at him, "Shouldn't worry. No need."

Trip frowned as he looked over at Malcolm. The look in his friend's eyes was calm. Trip felt sick, "I'm so sorry Mal."

Malcolm cocked his head, "I'm not."

The doors to Engineering slid open, and then it all happened so fast. One second, Malcolm had been walking, the next, the Klingon to his right had fallen to the floor with a broken neck. Trip did the only sensible thing in that instance – he ducked. Malcolm whirled around, and delivered a kick to the left Klingon's throat, sending him backwards over the balustrade. As the third Klingon tried to retaliate by punching him, Malcolm dodged smoothly, unsheathing the first dead Klingon's dagger, and slitting the third one's throat clean. Malcolm stood in the doorway, splattered with blood, curiously looking down on the shocked Engineering crew and pissed off pirates. Another Klingon, presumably the captain, yelled, "Shoot him!"

Malcolm sprang forwards, vaulting the railings, and dropping down to the Engineering level. He landed impossibly lightly, swinging around to kill a Xindi. Up above, Trip scrambled for a gun, and made to shoot some of the pirates down, but froze. Malcolm was systematically taking out each and every one of the aliens before they could even scratch him. It was mesmerising to watch. Somewhere in the midst, Malcolm had acquired a gun and two blades, which he was putting to very good use. In under a minute, the last body fell to the floor with a thud; it was the captain. Trip ran down the stairs, stumbling over the bodies to try and reach Malcolm. When he did, his friend's eyes were disturbingly peaceful. "Malcolm…" Trip's voice echoed in the silent room.

Malcolm smiled, "They can't laugh when they're asleep."

Troubled, Trip stepped over to the Engineering crew, "Wait there, Mal, don't move." As quickly as he could, Trip helped to free his team, "All of you grab a phaser out of the locker. There'll be more of these guys all over the ship."

Ensign Ferris shook his head, "There are only small amounts in other areas of the ship, sir. They wanted our warp coil, but couldn't work out how to detach it intact. The captain kept talking to others on their ship."

"Alright, go deal with those. Ferris, you go and get the Captain, bring him here. Oh, and not a word about how this happened to _anyone_, that's an order. Not until the Captain says you can say anything. If I hear one rumour, I'll know it was one of you."

Murmurs of assent spread through the huddle of blue, before they moved off to secure the ship. As soon as Engineering was empty, Trip turned back to Malcolm, who was now sitting happily cross-legged on the floor. He was seemingly unaware of the magnitude of what he had done, "Malcolm?"

His friend looked up, "I'm bored." Trip attempted to pull Malcolm off the floor, but the nausea finally set in. Malcolm giggled, "Told you not to worry."

Trip wiped his mouth. Voice hoarse, he bent so that he was eye level with Malcolm, trying to get him to comprehend, "You just killed all of those people. I know they were…bad, but why, _how_..?"

Malcolm frowned, "You're angry."

"No! No, I'm not. I just don't understand how you did it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Malcolm wrinkled his nose, "Silly. They had to go to sleep so the sun would come out."

"Malcolm, I don't know what you mean." Trip whispered despairingly.

Annoyed, Malcolm stood up and started walking around, stepping over the bodies without even acknowledging their existence, "Can we stop playing now? The sun's up. Everything is better. The screaming has stopped. I'm _bored_ Trip!"

"No, Malcolm, everything is not better. You're not better."

"No!" Malcolm yelled. Trip flinched at the turn of mood, "I don't want to sleep! They'll make me sleep! You can't stuff me with white pebbles and think I'll sing a song! You're a liar!"

Before Trip could move, Malcolm had leapt up the stairs, and was out the door. "Crap!"

Scrambling after him, Trip ran to the door, only to collide into Archer as he came from the other direction, "Trip, what..?"

"Oh my god…" Hoshi had seen the inside of Engineering.

Phlox turned to Trip, "Where is Malcolm?"

Archer looked from his friend's terrified expression to the carnage below them, "Malcolm did that, didn't he?" Trip nodded, "Where is he now?"

Trip shook his head, "He got spooked and ran off. He must be using the tubes if you didn't see him on your way here."

Archer nodded, and pressed the comm. link. "This is Archer. Everyone is to be on their guard for Lieutenant Reed, who is unstable and possibly dangerous. Stun only."

"Jon, he wouldn't hurt one of us-"

"We can't know that Trip, I'm sorry."

"But-"

"_No_. Now you can either join the search, or go with Phlox to sickbay-"

"No, sir. I'll help."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Author Notes: Here's the next chapter – thanks for all the reviews!

Chapter 5

Trip and Archer were trying to get to the Bridge, and failing miserably. All of the turbolifts had been shut down, forcing everyone to use the manual access. Finally, Trip found the right tube, and clambered up it. It was emergency access only, so when he reached the top, he ended up toppling out onto the floor in a very ungainly manner. Archer soon followed. Malcolm was tapping away on Ensign Mayweather's consol. Jon raised his phaser, but Trip stopped his arm, "Malcolm?"

Malcolm ignored him, continuing to input some data. Trip cautiously made his way towards his friend, "Mal? I wanna talk."

Malcolm shook his head, "Liar. Don't want to talk. Trick."

"No, I promise."

"Made promises before. Said you would stay."

Trip flinched, "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. But please, step away from the consol."

Malcolm reached across, and suddenly, a planet appeared on the viewscreen. Malcolm smiled, "The sun will be rising."

Trip looked confused, but then his expression quickly turned to shock, "Captain? That's the planet we left." He turned to Archer, "What if we missed something? What if the planet made Malcolm sick?"

"You're grasping at straws, Trip. Malcolm isn't in his right mind."

Trip glared accusingly at his friend, "Could you live with yourself if you were wrong? 'Cause I sure as hell couldn't."

Jon closed his eyes and sighed in defeat, "Alright, Trip, I'll contact Starfleet, tell them our situation has changed."

00000

Yet another week had passed, and now the same away team that had landed on the planet two weeks ago had returned. On Trip's suggestion, and interpretation of Malcolm's seemingly random comments, they were landing by the ruins at sunrise. Both Hoshi and Archer were sceptical, and T'Pol was even worse, but thankfully she had remained aboard the Enterprise. Trip, however, was a natural optimist. Malcolm walked ahead. The past week had done him some good. At Trip's insistence, they had forgone the drugs, and instead Malcolm had stayed in sickbay with Phlox for company. He had calmed down considerably, especially happy that they were no longer returning to Earth.

Malcolm hopped up to sit on a fallen column, grinning as he let the warm glow of the rising sun wash over him. Trip smiled as he watched his friend. He knew he shouldn't be getting his hopes up, but he couldn't help it. As he approached, Malcolm laughed, "You walk slow."

Trip smiled in return, "Actually, you walk fast."

Archer and Hoshi came up to join them. Archer regarded Malcolm and Trip with what could only be described as pity, "So, what are we actually looking for?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes, "Always ask for the wrong answers. Not looking, _seeing_. Should open his eyes before he closes his mind."

Before Archer could ask Trip for a translation, Hoshi gasped, "Wow!"

The writing on the wall opposite them was shifting in the shadows created by the rising sun. The glyphs seemed to dance. Malcolm smiled, "See?"

He hopped off the column, and walked over to the wall. Crouching down, he grabbed a rock that seemed to be half covering something, "Sir?" Hoshi asked, "That's where my bag was; the one Malcolm had. I think there's a switch-"

Before she could finish, the wall shifted, and a doorway emerged, which Malcolm quite happily jumped through, "I guess the guys who used to live here were good with technology." Trip muttered.

They followed Malcolm into the darkness, down countless steps, until the reached a chamber. The whole room seemed to give off a sort of iridescent glow. In the centre of the chamber was its only feature – a low pedestal. Malcolm was sat against the far wall, waiting. Trip gazed around in awe, "Malcolm? What is this place?"

As soon as he had spoken, the door behind the four of them shut, and the pedestal glowed. A woman of alien origins appeared in the middle. She had a violet hue to her skin, and golden eyes like a cat's. Light ridges ran along her bare arms. She smiled, and spoke in English to them:

_I am Shrala of the Reefar. If you are listening to this message, then we are long gone from this universe. I record this in the hope that we will not be forgotten; that we will live on past this long night, if only in memory. _

_A decade ago, my people made contact with a race known as Klingons. Although a violent race, they seemed willing to trade, until they found out about the Yeken plant. To our people, it is nothing, but to the Klingons, it turned out to be a powerful stimulant. They wanted our planet for their own from that day forth, tricking and murdering their way through our towns. This is the last free city of the Reefar. _

_In a last effort to preserve our memory, the knowledge of the Reefar was placed within the walls of this temple, to be released by a race compatible with ours. Now that our essence has been passed on, you are free to do with it what you will._

The hologram gestured to her left, where a small crystal appeared.

_Touch the crystal, and all knowledge shall be passed into it. We are deeply regretful as to how this has had to happen, but it was essential to ensure that our memory was passed to a race unlike the Klingons, and the fact that you have returned here is testament to this fact. We hope that you will not hold the experience against us. May you live on, in the light._

The hologram winked out. "Holy crap." Trip couldn't think of putting it any other way.

Malcolm stood, and walked slowly to where the woman had been, tears flowing down his cheeks, "Took a shot to the brain. Made it go squish. Didn't want to see the city burn in the night."

Archer looked at Hoshi, "Could it be a trap?"

"The crystal? Honestly, sir, what would they have to gain?"

Trip shrugged, "We have to try." He moved over to Malcolm, "Mal? Can you do something for me? I want you to pick up that crystal over there."

Malcolm frowned, "Old. Very old."

"Yeah. Will you do it?"

Slowly, Malcolm padded over to the crystal, and crouched down to look at it. In one swift motion, he snatched it up and stood. "Cold."

Suddenly, the crystal started to glow, brighter and brighter, and then it stopped. Malcolm's eyes rolled back into his head, and he would have collapsed to the floor had Trip and Archer not caught him. Hoshi bent down and picked up the crystal from the floor, pocketing it. The door to the chamber slid open. Throwing Malcolm's arm around his shoulder, Trip nodded towards the exit, "Let's go."

00000

"How are you feeling?" Trip looked up as Archer came up behind him. It was two days since Malcolm had collapsed in the temple, and he had still not awakened.

Trip sighed, "I'm alright. I'll feel better when he's awake though; can't sleep. I just keep seeing what he did. How's Hoshi doing with the crystal?"

"She thinks we should take it back to Earth. The technology is incompatible with ours and she thinks someone back home might have more luck."

Trip sighed, "I think it's better left alone."

Archer frowned, "There might be the cure for all diseases on it."

"Yeah, there also might be the formula for making the Klingon Happy Drug. I just want this whole thing to be over – I've never seen Malcolm look this bad." He scrubbed his face, "I still don't get it. I mean, the Klingons are all conquer and build an empire, but I can't see them destroying a civilisation for a drug."

Archer shook his head, "I had T'Pol show me the records in the Vulcan database. Apparently, Klingons were even worse in the early years, just like Vulcans. It said that the Klingon council, as they grew, ordered the planet a red zone, and the drug banned. It's a huge black spot in their history."

Trip rolled his eyes, "Figures." They sat in silence for a long while, until Archer had to return to the bridge. Trip still had an hour before he had to go back on duty, so he stayed. It was strange, but he felt entirely responsible for Malcolm. When the whole schizophrenia thing had come to light, Trip had been around the most, and, scarily, had actually understood what Malcolm had meant most of the time. The base of the matter was that Malcolm was his friend. However cold and unfriendly Malcolm had seemed in the early days, he was a good person, and did not deserve what life tended to throw at him. Although it was an odd friendship, their personalities fitted – as Malcolm had once said, he blew things up, and Trip fixed them, and right now, that applied to their situation perfectly.

A small movement caught Trip's attention. Sure enough, two slits of blue had surfaced, regarding him quietly. Trip smiled, "Hey, how're you feeling?"

Malcolm's muscles tensed, and he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He continued to stare at Trip with what appeared to be growing apprehension. Trip's smile turned to a frown, and he reached out to touch Malcolm's shoulder, only to be jerked away from. There was only one way to describe Malcolm's expression now – scared. Worried that Malcolm's mental state hadn't changed, Trip hollered for Phlox, but the volume of his voice only made Malcolm jump, and then draw his knees up into a protective huddle.

The Denobulan ship's doctor hurried out into the main sickbay, surprised to see Malcolm awake, "Lieutenant, it's good to see you up. How are you feeling?"

If Trip wasn't so worried, he would have laughed at the over-use of that phrase in the last few days, "He hasn't said anything."

Phlox allowed a momentary frown to cross his features before his smile returned, "Well let's conduct a few tests then, shall we?"

After an hour of test after test, Phlox had called Archer and Trip for the results out of Malcolm's hearing. Trip waited, "Well?"

Phlox sighed, "There is nothing physically wrong with him…"

Trip held up a finger, "I am _not_ getting this speech again! That hologram said it'd fix everything dammit!"

Phlox nodded, "And it has. It is Lieutenant Reed's own mind that is causing his lack of speech, for that is all I can find wrong."

Archer frowned, "Why would he do that?"

Phlox shook his head, "It is not something that has been consciously done. It is my belief that Mr Reed can remember everything of the past few weeks, and as such, his mind is struggling to cope – especially with the incident in Engineering." He shrugged, "That is the most plausible theory I can surmise."

Trip leaned back against a bulkhead, leaning his head back, "I thought this was over. Is it permanent?"

"It is impossible to say. If someone can help Lieutenant Reed to confront what has happened, it may aid his recovery-"

Trip's head jerked up, "'_Someone_'? We can't send him to a damn mental ward now! He's sane; he just needs us – not some white walls and a shrink!"

Phlox shook his head, "He needs professional help-"

"I can't believe we're actually having this conversation again!"

Archer nodded, "I agree with Trip. I'm not prepared to have Malcolm committed. He isn't a danger."

Phlox sighed, "Very well, but I warn you, cases like this are not known for their success stories."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: I was going to finish things in this chapter, but then my beta reminded me of an idea that I had concerning this story months ago which I had forgotten, and as I wasn't happy with the original ending to this chapter, I decided to go with it. So please review, and I'll try and write more!


	6. Chapter 6

Author Notes: This chapter is written for ChemicalNova, and everyone else who survived their AS and A levels. Thanks for the feedback, and in answer to JadziaKathryn's review, the title is Latin for Night and Day. Some people might find the content of this chapter upsetting.

Chapter 6

Eat, sleep, listen, eat, sleep, listen. That's all it was! Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why wouldn't they just give up? He wasn't, couldn't, talk, and yet here they were, asking him countless questions about things he just wanted to forget. They had it all wrong. He didn't give a damn about what he had done to those pirates – and that is what truly scared him. He was actually happy that he had brutally killed those aliens. He could still remember the feeling. It had been as if he had known countless new styles of fighting, all flowing through his mind just as he needed them. It had felt powerful, but that was not the reason why he had enjoyed it. Those_ creatures_ had murdered billions.

He shivered; even if he didn't still have the whole society's history and culture downloaded into his brain, he could still remember the nightmares, and the images. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the blood, almost hear the screams. The blood had run through the streets like water, and the Klingons had just kept going. Some of the things they had done to those people… If that's what the universe was like, who would want to be a part of it? If the only way to get retribution was to act just like your enemies, then what was the use? The past was black, and the future was blacker.

"Morning, Mal!" Malcolm prised open his eyes and sat up as sickbay flooded with light. He regarded Trip calmly, as he always did, but made no sound. This routine had been going on for almost a week now, bringing the total of this hell up to a month. He sighed inwardly, preparing for yet another hour of 'conversation', if that is what you could call Trip talking and him listening. It didn't matter, though - he had given himself a week, and still felt nothing. He could still look as the past month in a cold, clinical way; no true guilt, no true hate, no true hope. Time's up.

00000

"_Sickbay to the Bridge._"

Archer frowned, "Archer here."

Phlox's voice rang through, "_Lieutenant Reed has…disappeared from my care._"

Jonathan's expression deepened, "How exactly?"

"_I am afraid I was occupied with my animals. He cannot have gone too far, but I am concerned as to his mental state._"

Archer mentally swore, "Alright, I'll get a search team together."

Five teams consisting of any available crewmen were put together swiftly to sweep the decks. In addition, pairs were scouting the smaller areas of the ship. Trip, paired with a MACO named Sergeant Johnston, was checking one of the more obvious places – Malcolm's quarters. Johnston moved back to the door, "He's not here, sir, we should check the rest of this deck though."

Trip didn't answer. Something was wrong here, but he couldn't place it. As far as he could tell, the quarters were just as immaculate as they always were, nothing out of place. The MACO shifted on his feet, "Sir?"

Trip shrugged, "Yeah." As he turned to leave, something caught his eye. The end of the bed, the one near the pillow, was ruffled, as if someone had been too lazy to make the corners. Striding over, Trip knelt and moved the mattress aside. At first he saw nothing, and then his hand brushed something, which he quickly pulled out. As soon as he recognised what it was, he knew the situation was way worse than they had thought.

Johnston stepped forwards, "Sir? What is that?"

Trip closed his eyes, "It's an empty knife sheath. Standard issue. He was here."

The MACO was shocked, "You don't think he'd…"

Trip frowned, talking half to himself, "What is the quietest place on this ship? If everyone was searching for you, where would no one think to look?" He looked up, "Tactically, where would you go?"

The MACO frowned, "Most areas on this ship are manned twenty four seven. Others, you've only got access by going through those crowded areas. That leaves the access tubes, crew quarters, shuttle bays if you're lucky. But if you really didn't want to be found – cargo bays. Except, why would he want to go there? If he's really gonna… why there?"

Trip was already halfway out the door, "Because we wouldn't expect him too! Redirect all teams – allocate them a bay, we'll take six."

00000

How can you feel, when everything is black? One cut, see red, it's the only way. It makes it better. Watch it trickle, if you can't feel in the conventional ways, then you have to try all options. Tiny cuts, don't sever the tendons, if you do, you can't cut more. Not too deep, if it's deep, you die, and to die is painless, you can't feel. Have to feel, can't be so cold.

You think blood is red, but it's not. You've got so many shades, dark, almost to the point of black. See, we all have black in us. The black bleeds fast, like poison. Mixes with the lighter reds, taints the sunset of colours. If this is the only way to feel, to get the dark out of you, then shouldn't you feel better? Not good enough, the dark is still there, with the cold. Have to feel, must feel something. Death is black, but so is life. No one sees it, no one understands, no one can.

Time's up, have to feel, only way, no one sees the black.

00000

"Malcolm!" Trip scrambled down the ladder, jumping the last five. He had seen blood from the walkway, he had been sure. Running around a crate, his eyes finally settled on his friend, "Oh my God…"

Malcolm was half standing, half leaning against a crate. Blood, horribly dark in colour, stained the white clothes. His eyes were half closed as he ran a dripping blade over his wrists. He hadn't even acknowledged that Trip was there, "Get a med team!" he yelled to Johnston, "Now!"

His second yell brought Malcolm partly out of it; at least he raised his head to meet Trip's eyes. "Mal-" Trip voice cracked, and he tried to compose himself, "Malcolm, please put the knife down – you don't want to do this."

"Only way." The voice was so quiet, so lost, but it was there.

"No, it's not. You just have to let us help you."

"Can't."

Trip took a step forwards, "I'll help. I promise. Just, please, this is not a way to go, you're not a coward, you always told me, you told Jon, you'd rather go out doing something good, for other people, not like this."

"I don't want to die. I want to feel." He drew the blade slowly over the already torn skin, "I need to feel. No one can understand."

Trip shook his head, "No. This isn't how you do it. Malcolm, stop it, please."

"Too late. Tried to feel. Couldn't." His grip increased on the handle of the knife, and his gaze intensified, completely clear now, "You can't help me, Trip, you can't understand."

"No Malcolm." Trip was close to breaking point, "I do understand. And I know this isn't how to feel again. This isn't the way."

"You're wrong, you're lying."

"You helped me," Trip closed his eyes for a second, trying to find strength, "When Elizabeth died, I couldn't feel. I just wanted to hurt the Xindi. I thought that no one could help me, I was cold."

"No!" Malcolm's voice held anger now, "You didn't see it happen! I can! I can still remember what they did! I'm glad I killed those Klingons, but I did exactly what they did to the Reefar, I deserve to feel something, some guilt, some pain, but I don't! All I see is what they did, and I feel nothing."

"I didn't see it, no, but I played it over in my head. I could tell you every scream, of every one of those seven million people. I knew I should feel pain, their pain, Elizabeth's pain, but I couldn't. This isn't how you do it."

Malcolm's strength was waning as he slumped against the crate, "I just want to feel."

Trip took the final steps forwards, and gently took the knife from Malcolm's slack hand, throwing it away. He pulled Malcolm into a hug, feeling the weak resistance against his chest, feeling the blood slowly soak into his uniform. Malcolm's legs finally gave, and Trip lowered him to the floor, not breaking contact. Malcolm tried to pull away, but Trip was stronger, "I know you do, but you have to let us help you. You have to let us in."

Malcolm seemed to collapse against Trip, and they sat there, both crying for people lost, both understanding.

To cry is to feel, to feel is to stop the darkness, to stop the darkness is to survive, and to survive is all anyone can do.

**FIN**

Author Notes: That's it folks! I know it might seem like a bit of an odd ending, but I thought it summed up the story more than if I had continued further. I would really love to know what you thought, so let me know! Thanks a lot for the support!


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